And now we (unavoidably) head into spoiler territory...
In these three parts - "Alyosha," "Mitya," and "The Preliminary Investigation" - we learn that Grushenka, while attempting to escape with her former seducer, becomes convinced that it is Dmitri "Mitya" Karamazov she really loves. He pursues her and interrupts her elopement by throwing a raucous party, squandering hundreds (or is it thousands?) of rubles which he claims he stole from Katerina, his ex-fiancee. Meanwhile, when his father Fyodor is found dead and 3000 rubles missing from his bedroom, all evidence is against Mitya. He is found and interrogated; he himself claims no alibi. In fact, he confesses he was at his father's house, but ran away before committing the murder that was in his mind. Nothing else Dmitri or the witnesses say can corroborate his alleged innocence, and he is arrested as the criminal.
This was a grim and difficult part to get through. Only one passage - spoken by Dmitri to the authorities - particularly stood out to me, but it seems to sum it up Part III pretty well. Here it is from Garnett's translation, and while my translation is the P&V one, the essence is the same:
“You see, gentlemen,” he said at last, with difficulty controlling himself, “you see. I listen to you and am haunted by a dream.... It's a dream I have sometimes, you know.... I often dream it—it's always the same ... that some one is hunting me, some one I'm awfully afraid of ... that he's hunting me in the dark, in the night ... tracking me, and I hide somewhere from him, behind a door or cupboard, hide in a degrading way, and the worst of it is, he always knows where I am, but he pretends not to know where I am on purpose, to prolong my agony, to enjoy my terror.... That's just what you're doing now. It's just like that!”I want to make it clear that I don't care for psychoanalytic interpretation of literature (read: Hamlet). It's a type of thinking which seems to often look for perversion where there is no real evidence for it. That said, in The Brothers Karamazov, I would say there is a possibility of a history of abuse, based on Fyodor's actual character and what is repeatedly stated by Dmitri about him.
We know Fyodor was capable of the most vile deeds towards women, including his two young wives and the mentally challenged, homeless woman, Lizaveta. There is no indication of where his immorality would stop; he was frequently proud of it. It is not far-fetched to wonder if he, whether consciously or drunkenly, had ever treated his oldest son in the same way. Dmitri lived in vehement disgust of his father's behavior and presence:
"Perhaps I shan't kill, and perhaps I shall. I'm afraid that he will suddenly become so loathsome to me with his face at that moment. I hate his ugly throat, his nose, his eyes, his shameless snigger. I feel a physical repulsion. That's what I'm afraid of. That's what may be too much for me." (p. 131)
The old man's profile that he loathed so, his pendent Adam's apple, his hooked nose, his lips that smiled in greedy expectation, were all brightly lighted up by the slanting lamplight falling on the left from the room. A horrible fury of hatred suddenly surged up in Mitya's heart: "There he was, his rival, the man who had tormented him, had ruined his life!" ... "Perhaps I shall not kill him, perhaps I shall. I'm afraid he'll suddenly be so loathsome to me at that moment. I hate his double chin, his nose, his eyes, his shameless grin. I feel a personal repulsion. That's what I'm afraid of, that's what may be too much for me." (p. 439)
"I couldn't bear the look of him, there was something in him ignoble, impudent, trampling on everything sacred, something sneering and irreverent, loathsome, loathsome. But now that he's dead, I feel differently.”Fyodor's pursuit of Grushenka and money quarrel with Dmitri are certainly enough grounds for hatred, and maybe there are no others. It seems evident, however, that Dmitri's hatred is a lifelong emotion, going beyond even that of Ivan. No matter how much the sons take after the father, they at least are conscious of the Karamazovs' sins, and they are the ones who suffer the consequences.
“How do you mean?”
“I don't feel differently, but I wish I hadn't hated him so.”
“You feel penitent?”
“No, not penitent, don't write that. I'm not much good myself, I'm not very beautiful, so I had no right to consider him repulsive. That's what I mean. Write that down, if you like.” (p. 520)